


Blunt Weapons

by AutumnTribe



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Feelings are harder to manage than monsters are, M/M, My First AO3 Post, so is being in love, so is being smart, sometimes being blunt is dangerous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnTribe/pseuds/AutumnTribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What began as an accidental confession on a shopping excursion has grown into an added complication for every mission the pair undertakes.  Armin continues to weigh the costs of sharing Jean's affection against the benefits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trost: Home of the Blunt

**Author's Note:**

> I find it interesting that these two are thrust together as decoys. Armin is so cranial, while Jean is so passionate and blunt... Both are so wonderfully flawed and gifted. I began to toy with how they might approach the topic of attraction, and this was born:

\-----

The crisp metallic scent of autumn in Trost had faded from the bunk-room, leaving Jean and Armin together with the drafty excess space. Coats and boots had been put away, packages removed from bags and boxes and put into use. Jean was busy still, sewing reinforcement patches into the linings of his legion jacket's sleeves. 

Armin had immediately put away his new bundle of paper and bottle of ink, and had been quiet for half an hour, his brow knit. He was perched on the rail beside Jean's bunk, balanced comfortably on one thigh, feet dangling. Turning toward Jean, he tucked one foot between the rail and the mattress. "You're less talkative than usual."

"I guess." Jean muttered. "I'm just focusing on this." He tied the end if the thread and cut it with his teeth.

Armin pursed his lips. "I don't suppose you want to talk about earlier? What was that all about?" 

Jean had been hoping he wouldn't ask. "Hmmm? You're being vague."

Armin thinned his eyes. "Please don't play at ignorance. It's insulting. I was right beside you when your mother stopped us."

Jean sniffed. He was trying not to think excessively about the topic, lest he blush and give himself away. The best lies, as he knew, were no lies at all. Armin had asked if he wanted to talk; he could say no. However, baldly declining to discuss the topic would be more damning than anything he could say. Better to redirect. "She was where I learned to be forward. Sometimes that can make both of us seem rude or ignorant. I apologize."

Armin frowned. "You told her you were attracted to me."

The temperature in the room seemed to rise, and Jean knew he was blushing. He carefully examined the stitches he'd just made. "Ah... That. Yes, I did."

There was no sympathy in Armin's expression, but no anger either. "So, now it's me? I thought you were attracted to Mikasa."

"I... I was. I still am. She's beautiful and different from everyone else I've ever seen." Jean laid his jacket aside. He looked into Armin's eyes, but couldn't hold them. Armin was too keenly intelligent. He might see something in Jean that would be better left unknown. Jean stumbled on. "It isn't the same. Obviously. ...which isn't to say that you're plain, because you aren't. Just... I don't know. I don't even understand it myself. But..."

A few awkward minutes dragged by. Armin placed both feet on the mattress, propping his elbows on his knees. "But, what?"

A group of soldiers passed the room, laughing boisterously in the hallway. Jean stared at the weave of his blanket, silent until there was only the two of them again. "How can I explain this? Mikasa exists for Eren."

"So do I." Armin asserted. "You know that, don't you? If you look at my entire life, he's the only constant. I'll die for him. "

Jean managed a lifeless smile. "I know. So will I, obviously. Look at what we do, Armin. But, your feelings and Mikasa's are different. We both know that she defines herself through him. She does anything he tells her to do, and refuses to be separated from him for any measurable length of time. Without him, she becomes a hollow thing."

Tension stretched between them. Armin seemed ready to argue, but didn't. "She loves him very much. That doesn't mean she would be empty without him. But, you're right that she'd think she was."

"The point is, Mikasa can't love anyone but Eren. Even I can see that, and I'd need to be an absolute idiot to fall in love with someone who can never love me." Jean shrugged. "She's attractive. I also respect her skill and determination. But, I've realized that's all it is."

"Okay." Armin nodded, a little too cautiously. "What about me. Where did that come from?"

"Maybe it's just a reaction to how well we work together..." Jean forced himself to say. "I trust you... We rely on each other all the time, and it's never difficult to work with you. There's this harmony between us. We're natural partners, and I'm never natural with anyone."

"What about Marco?" Armin asked. "You and he were very close."

Defenses came up quickly, but Jean tried not to let that show. "What about him? He was my friend."

"Were you attracted to him?" Armin asked, this time keeping his voice very gentle. "You slept next to each other for three years..."

"I sleep next to Connie now. Do you think I'm attracted to him?" Jean scoffed. He took a moment to wind his thread tight around it's bobbin and secure it with the needle, then tucked them back into a small zippered bag. "It doesn't matter, Armin. I never expected anything to come of it. I'm sorry you had to know, but maybe it'll be useful in strategy or something..."

"Stop it." Armin insisted. "Don't start acting victimized, Jean. You didn't even answer my question."

Jean stilled. He pulled a deep breath. "What question didn't I answer?"

"Was there something between you and Marco?" Armin rephrased.

"He was my friend." Jean said. "I was a terrible friend, really. I didn't even realize he was dead until three days later, when I saw his body in the street... All I could think about was myself."

Armin waited. He fidgeted with the ties on his vest. "We were all busy. It was chaotic."

Jean refused the excuse. "I would have noticed if Mikasa was missing. I would know if you were. Honestly, I'd notice if Eren Yeager was missing, and not just because I'm forced to be his decoy. You'd be upset."

"Yes, I would. Everyone would, I think. Everyone who believes in him." Armin sighed. He shifted from the rail to sit cross-legged on the mattress, facing Jean. "I must confess, I don't understand how you could go from being attracted to Mikasa to me. It makes no sense. She's exceptional, and unique, and a very pretty girl. Being interested in her is logical. Imagine the genetics - I mean, not to sound like Hange, but you would have very impressive children, if you lived long enough..."

"Except, any future with Mikasa bearing my children would be a fairy tale." Jean laughed. "I don't make a convincing enough Eren, and I don't want to be a substitute."

"Neither do I." Armin said. "But, my point is, you should be thinking about the future when you confess attraction. I know that I pretend to be Krista, and that could blur some lines, but I'm still a boy."

"I know." Jean shrugged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I never thought of you as a girl. I'm never going to have children with anyone. Marriage and parenthood were part of my military police dream. That's gone. I joined the survey corp. I'm going to die to give other people the chance to do those things. I don't care that you're not a girl. I'm still attracted to you."

"I see." Armin said. He straightened the seam at the toe of his sock, his head bowed.

"You see." Jean echoed, in leu of requesting clarification.

"Yes." Armin lifted his head, but looked at the wall rather than facing Jean. "I don't know what to do about it, though."

"Neither do I." Jean admitted. He tossed the sewing bag into his rucksack where it lay open on the floor. "Actually, maybe you could just forget it? You don't have to do anything, anyway. Ymir has feelings for Krista and that's all. I can be the same."

"You're still playing the martyr." Armin chided.

"I'm not." Jean insisted. He managed a self-deprecating smile. "I'm trying to be fair to you."

"Fair?" Armin scoffed. "Are you serious? you're acting the part of the victim, but do you even believe what you're saying? Can you even imagine yourself kissing me?"

He was surprised by Jean's sudden intensity. "I can imagine quite a bit more than just kissing you."

"Does your imagination include my masculinity?" Armin thought of the thug who had called him beautiful. That had been horrific.

"I know you have a penis." Jean said, blunt as ever. "I thought we already covered this."

Armin tugged one leg closer to his body, wrapping his arm around his knee. "It's just hard to accept."

"Then, don't." Jean folded his jacket, more carefully than he normally would bother. He laid it on the empty shelf at the top of the alcove beside his bunk, then stood up, intent on putting some space between them.

Armin beat him to the door, blocking it with his body. "Every day, we face things that are hard to accept."

Jean frowned, but didn't try to push through. "I can't tell if you're actually considering me, or still trying to dissuade me."

"I may die for Eren, but I trust you more than I trust him." Armin explained. "I know that everything you said was true."

Jean tucked his hands into his pockets, unable to hold eye-contact. He felt a blush coming on and cursed his nerves. "Oh?"

"Yes." Armin leaned against the door frame, opening a small avenue of escape should Jean still want it. "I'm considering."

Jean nodded. He combed aside Armin's overgrown bangs with his fingers. "Let me know when you decide."


	2. Human Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when surrounded by enemies, the discussion continues...

Jean thought he might prefer titans to humans, as enemies went. For all their terrible strength and mindless savagery, titans were generally predictable. They destroyed, devoured, vomited, and eventually wandered away, leaving plague in their wake. Though less atrocious, human enemies were so much harder to understand.

He'd long since run out of patience for being trapped, helpless, hurt, and at a loss for his next move. He'd been in similar straights with Titans, to be fair, but it was fundamentally different. The power and size difference made defeat at the hands of titans oddly acceptable, and there were times when a tiny human could wedge himself into a small space, under a table or deep inside a fissure, and maybe wait out the titans' fickle attention span. With human enemies, there was no excuse for weakness, no small place to hide, and no chance of being forgotten.

So, both he and Armin knew that their enemy could burst through the door at any moment. A bullet could shatter the window and end their lives without the shooter ever being seen. Neither night nor day was safe, as neither darkness nor bystanders would deter an attack; and there were numerous enough enemies to relieve tired assassins with fresh reinforcements. There was no margin of safety, and the only reason Jean managed to doze a bit as they huddled together was because he trusted Armin.

He'd been afraid that admitting his attraction would ruin the fragile dynamic they shared, but it hadn't. Armin occasionally acknowledged that he was still 'considering', and Jean made an effort not to rush anything. However, at moments such as they were sharing, he thought it would be better to have an answer. Facing death might be easier if he felt he had closure in his life. He sighed, leaning over his folded legs, trying to find a more comfortable way to huddle.

"Are you alright?" Armin whispered. "You can have more space if you need it. I'm a lot smaller than you are."

"I have enough space, thanks." Jean sighed, careful not to move into the few inches Armin had opened between them.

Armin might have learned telepathy, by necessity, from his years spent with Eren and Mikasa. He huffed softly. "Are you seriously worrying about my decision right now? Kenny's people could be outside that door..."

The look Jean fixed on him ended his whispered tirade. It softened slightly in the quiet that followed. "I know you usually spend your time with people who don't communicate well, but I say what needs saying. If you don't want to think about my unspoken worries, only you can stop yourself."

"You're unbelievable." Armin groused. He tugged Jean into the space he'd made, allowing his long legs a bit more room. "I try to think about everything, and you know it. I can't afford to ignore your feelings. That could get us both killed."

Jean sighed again. Leave it to Armin to see his act of polite consideration as a dangerous crack in their teamwork. "I'm unbelievable? That might be funny if it wasn't followed by such a patently unfair load of crap."

"Pardon?" Armin managed to keep his voice down and his body still, but couldn't keep himself from clenching his fingers tightly around Jean's knee. "You know I'm right."

Jean adjusted the weight of his rifle where it lay across his lap. He cut a harsh stare toward Armin through the corners of his eyes and managed to whisper. "Yes, you're right. My feelings are extremely inconvenient, and I expect that knowing how I feel is probably a burden for you, but I remember that being addressed at the start. If you're telling me that I shouldn't have feelings, Armin... If you're saying that this extra worry is too much, maybe you shouldn't have pushed me to talk about it."

Armin shook his head. "If I hadn't, I'd still be worrying about what you were hiding from me."

"This is unfair." Jean grumbled softly. "And, for your information, It's perfectly normal to think about things like relationships or personal goals still not met when a person is facing death."

Armin turned directly toward Jean, ready to shut him down, and noticed the faintest shift of light at the far side of the room. Jean must have seen it at the same time, or maybe read it in Armin's expression, because his hands slid up the barrel of his rifle, finding the trigger and gripping the stock. Armin had kept his pistol in hand and ready all along, and kept it low as Jean brought his rifle up.

The men who came into view were shabby and weary-looking, but not in the downtrodden way that citizens often appeared. They were too lean, too haggard, and their visible wear and tear suggested fighting more than labor. Armin nodded, and Jean understood. He aimed, staying low and quiet. If they could avoid fighting, they would.

The swarthier of the intruders moved toward them, though not directly. He seemed to be searching rather than following a trail, though searching was still problematic. Armin and Jean were tucked inside a small pantry cabinet, which had seemed good cover at the outset but quickly became a cramped cage once they were inside. The combined body heat of the pair had awakened all manner of food aromas as well, leaving them marinating in the scent of garlic and herbs, strange bedfellows to gunpowder and oil.

"Sick of this." The second man declared. He kicked over an upholstered settee and tore the drapes from the largest window. "Not a soul left in this town, Blane. We should burn it down and go get our fee."

Jean carefully fit the muzzle of his rifle into the gap of the pantry door. The tendons along the side of his neck were taught, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Armin kept back as far as he could, giving Jean space to maneuver, and noted every sign of how exhausted and overtaxed Jean had become. Sweat clung to his exposed skin, his hair hanging in sharp, wet spikes in front of his eyes. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils slightly flared. He reminded Armin of an overburdened horse, though not in an unattractive way.

"You said that last house, too." The swarthy one - Blane - replied. "Just give it a quick look, then we can light it up."

Neither seemed particularly dedicated to their work, though Jean remained tense and ready until they moved on to another abandoned home. Armin carefully laid a hand on his arm. "We'll need to get out of here. We can't afford to hope that they'll leave once they set the fire. They'll probably stay to kill anything it flushes out."

Jean shook his head. "We can't run now, any more than we could an hour ago. Nothing has changed except the threat of fire. Find us another option."

And he was right. Armin knew he was. They listened to the men, or possibly others, break glass and pound against wood. They could have said what they had in an effort to spur panic. Armin nodded, thinking back to the village layout. "Okay, there were two wells, remember? Even if they turn out dry, the smaller well was made of stone and was fairly deep. It's close enough, we could stay low and get to it, drop down inside it and wait out the fire..."

Jean thought they would still be like two pheasants in an oven. He considered. "Any other ideas?"

"Honestly..." Armin shook his head. "We could try fighting our way out, but I think the well gives us better odds."

Not an encouraging thought. Jean nodded, shifting carefully onto his feet, still cramped and crouching. He leveled his rifle, ready to provide cover. "In that case, let's do this. You lead and I'll follow."

Armin eased the pantry door further open, cautious of the uncovered window as he scurried, half-crawling, toward the rear door of the house. Once there, he pressed his back to the wall and slid up to his full height, bringing his pistol up to cover Jean. In spite of his height, Jean made the creep from pantry to door with more grace than Armin had. He paused by the block and pulled a few heavy knives from their slots, tucking them into the belts at the side of one boot before continuing.

When Jean was at his side, Armin pulled the door slightly open. It had no remaining latch or knob, so he tucked a finger into the hole where a knob had once been and used that as a handle. Outside, the path sloped severely down, bracketed by a raised garden. Armin held his hands in front of his chest, 'walking' his gun hand along his flat other hand, then jerking his thumb toward the left side of the door. Jean watched, nodded.

Nobody was within view of the door as they left it. As one, they skirted the building until they reached the rear left corner. From there, they dropped low, Jean slinging his rifle against his back and drawing a knife. The garden fence provided cover from what were now obviously mercenaries, tearing through other houses.

The sky was beginning to darken, making the fires more stark and terrible than they might have been in daylight. A tall man glanced their direction and Jean pushed Armin down, falling over his back like a human shield. He slid his hand down Armin's arm and directed his wrist, pointing his pistol in the direction of the man until they were certain he hadn't seen them.

Mercifully, they reached the well without encountering anyone else. Jean crouched beside it, leveling his rifle again, scanning the area as Armin looked down the hole. It was simple, rough. Perhaps four feet across, cobbled together from uncut stones and sealed with concrete, it would be easier to descend with 3DMG, but they had none between them. This wasn't meant to be that kind of mission.

Unless someone was watching from inside a building, the area was clear. Armin took the risk and clambered into the well, holding on to the edge as he lowered his legs and searched blindly for a toehold. It was easier than he liked, suggesting a dry well, but even a dry well would be better protection than a wood house when the fire spread. He was at least eighteen feet down when Jean slipped over the edge and followed, slightly to the right of his path, the rifle hung against his back again.

A shock of cold hit Armin's foot, and the well wasn't dry, after all. Holding securely to the stone became far more difficult as he sank into the near-icy water. He gripped so tightly his hands cramped, worry rising with the level of the water. The village would take hours to burn, and neither he nor Jean had the energy to tread water that long.

Jean pulled a sharp breath when he reached the water, and Armin realized he should have offered some kind of warning. Even without, Jean climbed with more surety. He glanced toward Armin and let go, possibly relying on swimming skill Armin had no basis to understand. He only sunk slightly, however. The water was level with his shoulder and he was so steady he could only be standing at the bottom of the well.

They'd worked together enough to make his offer of support acceptable. Armin held Jean's shoulder and shifted toward him, laying himself beside the rifle on Jean's back. Every sound they made, from soft breaths to the papery scuff of fabric against fabric, echoed off the stone. From above, the occasional shout sounded distant.

The water was too cold for comfort, but shared body heat helped. Both young men kept their eyes up, watching the sky darken to black, the slowly lighten as a rusty haze overtook it. Armin yawned in spite of himself, slipping somewhat and adjusting his position. The air felt thinner, and he worried that it might become so depleted from the hungry fire that they might suffocate.

Jean may or may not have thought of the same thing. He stood very still for a few minutes, then leaned his head back, speaking softly. "You should rest, Armin. You haven't slept in at least thirty hours." Which, unfortunately, was true.

Not that the situation made resting easy. Armin sighed, looping his arms around Jean's neck, and Jean held him securely. He pulled the deepest breath he could, just once, and tried to relax. This was better than dozing in a tree while a titan tried to climb. He could do whatever he must...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who bookmarked, commented, and gave Kudos. This chapter is for both your interest and your patience as my life went sideways for a few months...
> 
> Also, chapter 3 is well under way. It should come much faster.


	3. A Variety of Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From one stony hole to another...

Somehow, Armin slept.

He woke to the strange sense that he'd been asleep for quite some time; to hotter air and the stink of creosote choking the far milder scents of earth and of his and Jean's combined sweat. The sky was dark again, and Jean was leaning them both slightly forward and against the rough-hewn stones near the well bottom. Cautious of lingering enemies, Armin pressed his mouth to Jean's ear and barely whispered. "Do you think we're alone? Could the fire have died?"

Jean shrugged clumsily, jostling Armin with the gesture. He turned his head and spoke against Armin's cheek. "Who knows. It's been hours since I heard anyone, or anything breaking or falling down. I didn't want to risk guessing."

"Sorry." Armin could see exhaustion in the lines around Jean's eyes. He felt guilty for adding his weight to Jean's burden.

"Don't be. I offered, remember?" Jean pointed upward. "If you want to pay me back a little, you could climb up and check. It would be more useful than an apology."

Armin couldn't help smiling, just a little. He reached for a stone above his head and found a secure grip; started climbing. The climb required less effort than he expected, suggesting he'd slept longer than he planned. Before he reached ground level, the stones became wet and a bit slippery and a faint, dirty rain reached him.

The view from the top confirmed his suspicions. The village was charred and collapsed, mostly gutted and blackened. Even with the slight drizzle, coals glowed and persistent flames crawled low to the ground. The air was still oily and sharp enough to make his eyes water, and holding still proved challenging as he squinted through dim morning light, searching for lingering enemies.

Either they were hidden, or gone. Considering the elapsed time, Armin was willing to bet on the latter. He gestured for Jean to join him and carefully clambered out of the well. After looking more closely at the ruined village, the echo of a grunt made him look back down the well.

Jean's usual grace was completely missing as he painfully dragged himself up the well shaft. Armin realized belatedly that Jean must be completely out of energy, having stood all night in cold water, supporting both of them. When he reached the top of his climb, Armin grabbed handfuls of his clothing and pulled, shifting his grip from jacket to belt and dragging as much as Jean was crawling to get him safely on the ground.

"Thanks." Jean managed, panting. The air was so foul and depleted, they both sounded as if they'd run for miles.

Armin took Jean's hands and examined them, expecting the wrinkled skin but concerned by the bleeding scrapes on his knuckles. "Are you okay?"

Jean nodded, fingers closing over Armin's. "yeah... Yes. We should get out of here. Thoughts?"

He wracked his mind, piecing together details. The village had been surrounded on all sides with forest, but two directions were especially level and offered paved roads. To move so openly would be unforgivably bold. Another side was ordinary woods, interspersed with small farms. It was a pleasant option, but the paths rolled softly, providing ample ravines in which an enemy could comfortably hide for hours.

"Do you think you could handle the west side of the village?" He hoped that Jean remembered the terrain.

"The rocky mess that suddenly drops down toward the river - which we avoided when coming here?" Jean managed to keep his voice devoid of emotion.

Armin felt a surge of warmth for his snarky partner. "Yeah. That's our path."

"Fun." Jean stared into the wavering landscape, squared his shoulders, and nodded. "The guns won't be helpful for a while. Maybe we should both carry knives?"

Armin nodded and knelt, pulling a knife from Jean's boot. Water was still gathering around Jean's feet. His clothes must weigh as much as his missing sword-blades would, and his posture was nothing like his usual upright stance. Never the less, he moved when Armin moved. Keeping his fatigue in mind, Armin picked the simplest possible path through the ashes and remained vigilant against enemies.

The greatest benefit of mercenaries was their willingness to walk away from an unfinished job the moment their requirements were met. If any had waited, they avoided the west side of town and its difficult terrain. Armin could hear Jean breathing behind him as they picked their way through thorny undergrowth and treacherous boulders. They wouldn't be able to get far.

He'd never thought he would yearn for 3DMG and giant trees so badly without a titan for miles. Even if nobody was there to see them escape, someone would eventually come to ensure the job was done. They would need to be clear of the area by then.

Yet, when they reached the end of the boulder-strewn woods, there was nowhere to go but down. The ground fell away so abruptly, Armin barely had the chance to stop Jean before he would have fallen at least ninety feet to the river gorge below. Jean skidded forward slightly and dropped to a crouch that might have seemed graceful were he not a member of the survey corp.

Levi had said there was a cave somewhere at the edge of the cliff, concealed among the huge stones and nearly impossible to find. Armin made up his mind to locate it; gestured for Jean to stay where he was, and was relieved to see him sag a bit lower without arguing. The drizzle was slowly gaining force, shifty mist thickening into drops. It was convenient to cover their damp trail, but at the same time, Jean had begun shivering.

The hour spent searching was dismissed as an investment in their survival. Armin returned to Jean with dirt under his nails and scuffs on his palms and knees, smiling brightly. "I found Commander Levi's cave. Come on, we'll hide for the day and get ourselves rested for travel tonight."

Jean smiled up at him; took his hand when it was offered. He was slow and cautious lowering himself over the edge of the cliff where Armin indicated, and waited on a small outcrop until Armin joined him, barely offering assistance. Armin crawled through the narrow entrance of the cave first and waited to help Jean. He carefully piled stones in the opening to conceal it and crept, hunching for lack of headroom, deeper underground.

"In case you ever wonder..." Jean stopped when the cave widened, stepping aside so Armin could decide their path further. 

Armin waited. "In case I wonder what?"

"Oh." Jean scratched the back of his head, where his hair was shortest. "I was thinking that you're every bit as angelic as Krista when you save the day."

It was probably exhaustion speaking, so Armin rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He kept to the side of the cave, where the entrance was barely visible, and nudged Jean. There was an alcove of sorts in the stone, a few inches higher than the dirt floor. "We're sleeping here."

"So forceful." Jean sat on the stone shelf, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He laid his knife carefully aside, propped his rifle beside it, and removed his boots. A significant amount of water ran out of each as he upturned them.

They hadn't dressed in uniform, knowing that Kenny and his men were hunting them. Jean's canvas jacket looked like it would continue holding water, though his lightweight pants should shed it easily. Though tired, Jean seemed to be thinking the same thing. He peeled away his jacket and his cotton shirt, knee-walked to lower ground, and twisted the fabric until it stopped dripping. Armin knelt beside him, doing the same thing.

The cave interior was almost as chilly as it had been in the rain. For lack of better options, they both redressed in their damp shirts and returned to the elevated stone alcove Armin had picked as their sleeping area. Jean bent his knees to fit in the limited space and tried to find a comfortable way to sleep on stone, and Armin couldn't help thinking of the pantry from the village.

He tucked himself against Jean's side, mindful of the way Jean compressed further to offer a little space. Contact provided much-needed warmth. Jean curled slightly around Armin, his breath warm against Armin's scalp. "This is cozy."

"This might keep us alive." Armin corrected. He tried not to think about whether any of the mercenaries knew the cave existed.

Jean pushed away, enough to look Armin in the eyes. He stared for a few minutes, assessing. Under such concentrated scrutiny, Armin was aware of every ache in his body, every sound in the cave. He recognized the intent in Jean's expression, saw him move, but was still surprised to be kissed.

It was cautious, a slow drag of lips with no demands. Somehow, that made responding easier. Armin shifted closer to Jean, pressing their mouths more urgently together, and opened his mouth slightly when he felt Jean's tongue. The warmth and hunger that came behind each push of Jean's tongue took him entirely off guard.

His own breathing echoed back at him from deeper in the cave, and he broke the kiss with Jean's hands on his hips; his own hand in the short dark hair at Jean's nape. He cleared his throat and tried to find his voice.

"Shhh. Don't." Jean insisted. He adjusted their positions again, resting his head against Armin's shoulder. "Argue with me after I sleep."

Armin wanted to ignore the request, but Jean was immediately asleep. He was too wound up to do the same, and lay thinking. Jean was far from his best condition. Bruises and scrapes were stark against his sallow, sun-deprived skin, and his hands were riddled with wounds. A scab covered the remains of a cut on his cheek, from a fall days past that Armin remembered thinking might kill an untrained man.

Jean had been right, back in the dorm at Trost. Their survival was always uncertain, and along the treacherous path they'd chosen, Jean had become painfully important to him. Maybe more important than Eren and Mikasa. More important than exploring beyond the high walls.

He had no idea how that happened.


End file.
